


See Me

by easyonme



Category: U2 (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-09-07 17:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16858627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easyonme/pseuds/easyonme
Summary: Takes place in present time with point of view switching back and forth between B and A.There's a piece of artwork that inspired this. If you're really interested it shouldn't be too hard to look up.Disclaimer: Nearly none of this actually happened. At least I'm pretty sure..





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 2018. Adam POV.

I let the belt of your robe slip slowly between my thumb and forefinger, my skin nestling into each cottony waffle one after the next. Aware of your watchful gaze, I awaited your inevitable question.

"When will I see you next?" Your head tilted to the side like a golden retriever.

We were in Dublin with the tour coming to an end, and while I was glad to be wrapping up four solid years of nonstop work, I was also kind of sad to see it go. Well aware that this was always the point that made you most uncomfortable - sitting in the unknown, not having a plan - I tried to think of something to ease your worry. I knew it was larger than just us. But I'm not going to lie; I wanted to prolong this moment too.

"Well, I've got to head back to London for a bit. Mariana's passport needs updating, I have some work to do on the Moser project, and then we'll be in France by Christmas..."

Your eyes glowed, while you tried not to act too surprised. "Oh perfect, us too."

You continued, "We should all have dinner at that place by the sea, you know, the one with the pretty mosaic floor..."

I nodded, as you went on, "I mean, not _all_ of us. I mean you and me and Marianna and Ali. Of course."

"Like a double date." I winked at you.

"Something like that." You practically giggled, pleased, as always, that I'd play along.

I rolled to the other side of the bed and got up. You looked as if you could hibernate all day, so I found a robe in my wardrobe and shrugged it on, flannely soft against my bare skin. I smiled at the memory of the previous day. You and Gug had come for a meeting about the Red event at Sotheby's, and he'd thought nothing of the fact that you'd end up staying at the cottage till the next day. I always had to remind myself that this was normal for us, even if our normal existed in another world.

"I've been thinking...." I turned back to you as I smoothed fragrant orange and clove lotion into my hands. "I'm going to buy the Ebony Patterson." I said with finality.

When your eyes lit up this time you didn't even bother to hide your excitement. You ticked another win in the column of your charity. It could have been seen as buying a piece of your heart; that is if I didn't like the work so damn much.

"Really? Seriously?"

"As a heart attack." I flattened my lips and tipped my chin, while you grabbed your chest and flopped back on the bed.

"Too soon?" We both laughed.

"In all seriousness though, I just feel as though I need to have it. You know?" I sat on the edge of the bed near you and crossed my legs, tucking my robe and one hand between my thighs.

"Tell me how it speaks to you." You were full on puppy dogging now.

"I love that it's talking about this essential need in all of us, to be seen. To finally be seen. Sometimes I think of it that way, you know?" You nodded, encouraging me onward. "At the same time it's aesthetically beautiful. I mean, it's gorgeous really, with it's ornate pattern, fine threads, and shiny embellishments." I couldn't resist emphasizing my words with a few flicks of my wrist. "It's stunning. But at the same time it's asking you to look past all that. To see the seemingly invisible message. To see past the fantasy. I love it."

"And it's huge; it draws you in," You added thoughtfully.

"Did you know Patterson is Jamaican?"

You nodded again.

Of course you did.

"It's beautiful. Thank you." I said, feeling like an echo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2018. Bono POV.

When I stepped up to the podium all I could see were layers of red and translucence. Ironically, I was speaking about light. Bringing light to a dark subject, just as the artists who surrounded us were doing with their donations, their time, their energy and focus. Just as the money raised would actually make an impact.

As I glanced from the teleprompter to the audience, I didn't see you at first. It wasn't until I was almost done singing the final verse of 13 that you caught my eye. I smiled involuntarily. How strange to be singing this song with you sitting in a plastic chair a few feet from me, hands folded in your lap. Suddenly my chest ached to hear the heartbeat of your instrument.

I managed to finish softly without getting choked up; then I made my way around to the back of the crowd to take it all in. The bidding started and I let my mind wander for a few minutes.

I'd been doing my research on Ms. Ebony G. Patterson since we last spoke. I learned that she is a young Jamaican artist who uses primarily mixed media to explore questions about identity and the female body, among other controversial social situations and cultural events that she is intimately familiar with. As I explored deeper into her work I realized that most of her pieces would be too much for you, too visceral, too grotesque. Perhaps even too gaudy for your taste.

Patterson once said, "In order to force one's way out of invisibility, one creates a reason to be seen." This reminded me of you immediately, but at the same time I thought this isn't necessarily an idea you'd be attracted to. You preferred a more nuanced approach, so it made perfect sense to me why you were so drawn to this particular piece of her work. I had arranged a private viewing for us later in the spring at the gallery where she is currently represented in Chicago. I wanted to impress you. And I wanted to carve out private time with you, no matter our obstacles.

My gaze drifted over the sea of heads in front of me until I found your distinctly sculpted poof of silvery hair near the front. I watched you shift in your seat, undoubtedly adjusting the manner in which your legs were crossed each time. I imagined how carefully you'd place your hands in your lap in front of you. Studying each work presented to the audience even though you already knew them all by heart, your adorable glasses perched on your nose in an effort to better read the detailed program. I held both of my arms tightly across my chest, which had the double benefit of making me look cool in my black-on-black-on-black suit, while also allowing me to hold in all my feelings and not give a single important one away.

There was a din of applause and a few cheers, followed by a change on the screens up front. I could barely see from here, but your florescent painting was unmistakable. At this distance it looked like a Persian carpet coming apart at the seams, all the seams. I had an absurd impulse to run my fingers through the tangled threads hanging down the wall.

You let the bidding progress slowly, not joining in at first, and only raising incrementally when you finally did. The message of the piece was clearly visible everywhere in the room. I looked around, wondering how many others this one had left an impression on.

An art auction was something you were obviously experience at. Eventually only yourself and a few other bidders were left in contention. The longer I looked at it, the more it demanded to be seen. I felt as if the artwork was seeping out towards me, while the bids grew larger and slower.

I pretended as if I had some kind of control over your nearly imperceptible head nods and half-hand raises as I held my breath. $40,000 was already far more than they'd appraised it for, but how can you put a price on love? Finally, all eyes were on you and your challenger. You made one final bid, and suddenly all attention but mine was averted elsewhere. I imagined the walls in your home where you might choose to hang your new tapestry. I imagined looking up at it with you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2018. Adam POV.

I moved about the living room, tidying up from the festivities on the night before. We'd flown all of Mariana's family in for Christmas Eve, and it was truly wonderful to share that much-needed time with them. I especially enjoyed seeing her mother cooing to Alba, just as I imagined she'd done with Mar decades before. We ate _rabanada_ topped with diced mango and guava, and everyone sang together late into the night, exchanging gifts just before morning dawned. I found myself increasingly comfortable as we built new traditions for our tiny family, something that would have forced me to retreat inward not too terribly long ago.

It was late afternoon by the time I went to check on the baby in her room. Mariana had fallen asleep in the chair next to the crib, and I reasoned that it was good to let her sleep. I tucked a soft throw around her shoulders and kissed the top of her hair. Then I went to Alba's crib and starred at her for an unknowable amount of time - the way only parents can lose track of time as they watch their precious babies sleep. It was strange, I thought, this thing I never knew I wanted. This thing I felt, if I'd known it sooner, I may have wanted it then too. I shook my head as a smile crept across my lips. Tucking my child's creamy-colored plush bunny closer to her side, I ducked out of the room and quietly made my way downstairs.

Everyone was staying at a guest house down the road, so I was all alone for a few hours. I had been playing a little game with myself, trying to see how long I could wait to look up the photos I knew surely existed, already on the internet, of you and Edge on Grafton Street from the previous evening. I went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea, opting for the stovetop kettle because it would take slightly longer to brew than the usual electric one. I flicked on the tap and filtered water streamed into the tin capsule, making a pleasant sound. Without thinking much, I counted out the exact amount of time it takes to fill two cups worth, roughly two measures in 4/4 with a slowing cadence. Moving over to the stove, I ignited the burner and grabbed a dark-colored mug from the cabinet above as the water heated. I checked my phone for notifications again, and seeing none, I darkened the screen once more and slipped it into my pocket. I'd been successfully avoiding you, and the painfully obvious distance between us, for approximately fourteen and a half hours, and I reasoned with myself that I could surely hold out a short while longer. I measured loose tea into a mesh sachet and removed the kettle just before it would have whistled, pouring the hot water over the leaves. Replacing the kettle on the stove, I swished the bag back and forth in the steaming water and watched the colors dissolve together into the clear liquid. My phone vibrated in my pocket.

I slid it out and answered the call with one hand, while carefully depositing the tea bag in the bin with the other. "Hello," I said simply. I already knew it was you, having just glimpsed the single cubby letter - that always made me smile - on my phone screen before clicking to take the call.

"I miss you." Your voice was warm and comforting, like a soft knit blanket. "I thought you'd have called by now." My heart soared, reveling in a small personal triumph.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 2019. Bono POV.

As I opened my laptop, my thoughts careened back to that mercurial time between Christmas and New Years, where you can never really pin down the exact day or time. Memories just ebb and flow on their own, some more significant than others bobbing to the surface. Your family had gone, back to Brazil. My family never really arrived, so busy with their own lives now. Ali was here and there, but she had her own priorities that week. Having spent so much time alone in France already that year, she had errands and friends she wanted to see all over town.

I clicked on my inbox, then thought better of it and began a new message, to you. A few nights after I'd flown in, we'd gone to dinner with Mariana. At that place, our place, by the sea. She looked like moonlight dancing on the surface of the water, effortless in one of her brightly colored deadly-to-us-menfolk gowns and heels that looked as if she might climb on up and swing from the stars. I drank too much rosé and tried to hold your hand under the table, always a fool. Always a fool, for you. My voice mellifluous and road worn as the night deepened.

 _Hoping you might indulge me in the pleasure of your presence, next month in Chicago?_ I typed haphazardly with my pudgy fingers. Biting my bottom lip, I recalled the way Mar looked at you that night. A warm breeze whispered across the patio where we dined, and my gaze followed it from her glowing eyes to your restless hands, warmth radiating forth. It was the kind of look I always hoped to impart on every bit of your skin from head to toe. Our eyes followed each other's angles as if they were magnetized, until she and I were staring back at each other, honoring exactly what we had just seen, each of our hearts bared in the balmy night.

Saying a silent prayer that everything was in place, you'd say yes, and the rendezvous would go smoothly, I clicked send and then closed the computer. Our meal over, we'd slipped as quietly as we could into the back of a black sedan - you insisted - and the three of us were off into the night. The space was more cramped than I was used to, and I couldn't imagine how the two of you felt as I looked over at your long legs arranged together next to each other, next to my own. I couldn't help comparing us, so different, so varied. As Mar reached over and grabbed my heavy hand, placing it on top of yours in her lap, I suddenly felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the car.

I wondered, did you plan this? Did you talk to her? What exactly was she doing? Did she know what she was doing? Of course she knew. I gulped for more air, trying to force myself to be comfortable with this...situation. I allowed my hand to relax, feeling your soft skin below mine and her lightness above. I smiled when you gave her leg a little squeeze. It was okay. We all adjusted our hands comfortably as Mar looked from me to you, her eyes sparkling, her lips relaxed, not needing to say a thing. It was okay to be seen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2019. Adam POV.

I'd booked a suite at the JW under a pseudonym, somewhere low key and out of the way as you'd requested. I'd arrived early in the day and was just finished getting ready when I heard your unmistakable knock at the door - a thick thumping from your substantial knuckles. Wondering how you'd managed to enter the building without anyone noticing you, I was greeted by a lanky vase of white tulips. You peeked around the side, and I couldn't help smiling.

"Thanks for coming," You said, stepping hurriedly into the room.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." I took the vase, our fingers brushing momentarily, and turned to place it on a marble table near the window. "Speaking of...what exactly is it that we're doing here?" Turning back towards you, now setting your small black bag down on the floor next to the bed, I knew you loved that I'd follow your every whim, even having not the slightest inkling of what your end game was. I'd be remiss if I didn't point this out to you now.

"I'm taking you on a proper date." You beamed, standing up as tall as you could.

I smiled back at you pleasantly, and then it suddenly dawned on me; Valentine's Day had been just a few days earlier. I mistakenly rolled my eyes, not meaning to detract from your incredible knack for sentimentality, and hoped you didn't notice.

"Ok, but why here? Of all the places?" I held my hands together in front of me and swayed slightly, trying to course-correct. It really was very sweet.

"Well, the Monique Meloche gallery only exists in one city," You made some sweeping gestures with your arms as I went through a mental list of artists I knew represented by her, and then I realized.

"Monique...Ebony? Really?" I was dumbstruck. Ebony Patterson.

"I arranged a private viewing of her current collection." You nodded, and then stilled yourself with some effort.

I couldn't believe it. You were officially the epitome of a honey bee.

***

By the time I'd stepped out of the ridiculously large SUV and smoothed my jacket back in place, you'd somehow managed to hop down before me and already stood on the dimly lit sidewalk waiting with your hand outstretched. I skipped over the gunk in the gutter and took in the unassuming industrial buildings around us as I steadied myself against your firm grip.

The area reminded me of Hanover Quay, without all the love notes. You buzzed us in on the keypad and we stepped through the steel doorway with purple writing on it. We found ourselves in a brightly lit and whitewashed warehouse. Another artist's work hung on the walls throughout the first room, and I was distracted as you made your way to the desk, where you greeted a young woman with dark hair tied in a low knot as if you knew her well.

I swayed silently between paintings and sculptures in that way you do when you're taking it all in, every sense occupied and overwhelmed by art absorption.

"Right this way," the girl must have whispered, for she sounded like she was very far away and perhaps talking to someone else.

"Ad, over here." Your voice broke through my consciousness evenly. I turned and followed, looking back once while someone continued to talk ahead of us. I was thinking about how this was the home of Ebony's paintings. Might mine have lived here at some time? I remembered when it had arrived at my home in Dublin a few weeks ago. For some reason I'd wanted it there. It didn't seem to fit in London. I imagined Ebony hanging her work here, unwrapping each piece, discarding sheets of bubble wrap, pressing her hands up against the walls, affixing them in place just so, stepping back to see them...

You grabbed my hand, and I was right there, back in the present with you.

We followed the gallery assistant to a back room, beyond the second gallery space filled with the same artist's work as the first. It was strange for me to think that other artists showed here, and Ebony's work was put away for a time. It was remarkable how in such a short amount of time, I'd come to feel so connected to her.

The rest of the viewing was a blur. More than one piece tempted me, and you were right, I found quite a few down right repulsive. Even so, her work was exquisite; and just when I thought the night couldn't get any better you told me we were going to dinner at a place even I couldn't seem to book reservations.

***

"How do you even say the name of this place? Ahhh-lynn-eee-ahh?" You asked and I tried not to be embarrassed. Thankfully we were seated in a secluded area of the restaurant.

I knew far too much about the experience we were about to have. Sometimes I can get a bit fixated on things, and recently I'd become consumed with the idea of enjoying great food as art. Somehow you knew this, always a stealthy and keen observer. I found this to be an underrated quality of yours. Our meal would easily cost $1,000 between just the two of us, and we would be treated to nearly 20 courses of the most impeccable food to grace plates (or items vaguely resembling plates), perhaps ever, over four plus hours.

I was still lost in my thoughts when our drinks arrived - water for me and the wine pairing for you. "So what did you think?" You asked. I wondered what you saw in me. It must have been like trying to make conservation with a rubber wall sometimes.

I forced myself to stay focused on the present moment, though I nearly felt like floating away, a pleasant mixture of content and contemplative. "This whole evening has been sublime." I smiled, tight-lipped, back at you; and I got the feeling that you were turning every word of mine over inside your mouth in nearly the same way you tasted your wine.

Placing both your hands gently on top of the white tablecloth, palms up, we just stared at each other for a minute. I didn't mind the silence, but I knew it would eventually make you uncomfortable.

In an attempt at something in the middle-ground I tried to speak with my eyes. I let my gaze roll over every crease of your spread fingers. I trailed on up your substantial arms and over your sleek black and blue jacket, three almost-invisible buttons tall. You noticed my pause when I reached your neck, complete with a bit of your solid chest barely peeking out, just enough to be risqué given the setting. I imagined peeling away the layers, running my fingers along the lines from your nape to your chin. An electric feeling shot through me just as one of the servers poured liquid nitrogen into a bowl of cut fruit situated in the middle of the table and a dreamy gas drained out and ran all the way down the edges of the table into our laps.

The rest of the night was a transcendent type of torture.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2019. Bono POV.

I only managed to wait a week to see you again. My flight from New York arrived Tuesday morning and I took a car straight to your house. Waiting awkwardly outside the gate with my window half down, I inhaled the entrancing scents of jasmine and juniper, as I fumbled with my phone to make sure I wasn't waking anyone.

"Of course I'm up, it's past 9" came your reply. My clumsy fingers made a move and then the message bubble popped up again.

I waited impatiently.

"No one else home. Come on up.."

Someone from inside buzzed us in and my driver dropped me at the door. "No need to wait around," I told him with a small wave over my shoulder as I hopped out. I paused at your front door, touching the bronze handle, and watched the reflection in the window of the dark SUV quietly sliding back down the hill and out of sight past the evergreens.

I let myself in and took my time walking up the curved staircase so I wouldn't get winded. You still managed to inspire a tiny bit of vanity in me.

I tried to be as quiet as possible, moving across the marble floor toward your bedroom. But as soon as I saw you, in your robe and slippers, with your wire-rimmed reading glasses on and a cup of steaming tea held close to your lips, though just barely not touching, I felt comparatively uncool in all the ways.

"Hi!" I gave a gawky wave and hated myself immediately.

You looked up at me, over your glasses, and set your tea and newspaper down on the small table in front of the window of the sitting area. As I came towards you, you got up and effortlessly hugged me and pressed a chaste kiss to each of my cheeks, while I didn't know what to do with my hands and suddenly felt ridiculous in the same black jeans and black v-neck and blue sunglasses I'd been wearing for nearly a year now.

"Please, have a seat." You motioned to the chair opposite yours, maybe intuiting that I'd forgotten everything I meant to do or say from the moment I saw you. "Tea?" You asked, setting your hand on the still-warm pot, almost as if you'd expected a guest this morning.

I shook my head no. "I've been up for hours."

"Oh?" All I could do was stare. There was something incredibly sexy about your glasses.

I couldn't decide if I should tell you I'd been thinking about you nearly every second of the day for the past week, or if I wanted to pretend like it was no big thing and I'd just popped by to see you, like any normal weekday in the neighborhood.

"I just got in." I willed myself not to fidget.

"In town?" You acted mildly surprised. "Oh, from where?"

"Oh just New York." You nodded, looking down at your tea. "Ali's still there."

"Ah." I was a little disappointed you didn't bother asking if it was work or pleasure that brought me to Dublin. "Mar and _meu pequeno nascer do sol_ are in London."

God, I thought to myself, why did this sweet sentiment make me want to jump your bones even more? I am a twisted man with impure thoughts, I told myself, and here I've gone and taken the Lord's name in vain to top things off....

I was looking inward, thinking all this in run on sentences, while you'd peeled your glasses off, setting them on top of the discarded papers, and swiftly positioned yourself on my lap with your long legs draped over the sides of the chair.

As I shifted in my seat, your robe fell open a bit. Before I even looked, I could feel your substantial hardness begin to press against my belly. I slid my warm hands around each of your hips and pulled you a little closer, with what I'm sure was a lecherous look on my face. You lifted your chin high in the air as you arched into my grip.

"Oh boy," I said as I stood and pulled you up right along with me.

Your diamond eyes met mine and you smirked. "You want this, huh?" You managed to look yourself up and down even though I still held you extremely close. I bit my bottom lip and pressed my fingers harder into your hips.

"I'll show you how bad I want it," I said as I turned you around, for the first time facing your bed since I'd entered the room. I saw it immediately, and I almost dropped you. I couldn't believe you'd hung it over your bed, almost like you'd read my mind. I loved it instantly. The satisfied look on your face told me you'd noticed me seeing the artwork here, in its new home, for the first time. You'd probably planned this, come to think of it. I pulled your lengthy but taut body against mine and kissed your lips like velvet on craggy sunburned cliffs by the sea. Had I ever loved anyone the way I loved you? I didn't think so, not at this moment. And I was determined to show you.

I pulled one corner of your robe down and kissed the soft skin in between your neck and shoulder. I had the momentary feeling that I could live here, right in this spot. Then I trailed my kisses across the front of your chest, hard under my touch. My tongue lazily slid out of my mouth as I made my way back up your heavenly neck; I could feel you trying not to shimmy closer to me now.

My eyes met yours again, and you very seriously removed my glasses and tucked them in the pocket of your robe. I let you study my face, pressing your thumb over my cheek, you smoothed the bags under my eyes, and then flattened the rest of your hand against my face, holding it there for a moment. I leaned my head into your tender touch. "You're more beautiful than the day I met you," you said softly, and it felt impossible to argue with you in this place and time. You shrugged your robe off and it slid down your creamy skin and nestled itself on the floor at your feet, not that it had been covering much of anything at this point anyhow.

I let myself look at your magnificent body from head to toe, seeing with my hands where my eyes couldn't quite travel. Needing to touch you in more ways now, I pulled my t-shirt up over my head and brushed my soft chest across your muscular, smooth tummy. We both got a slight thrill as the tip of your penis pressed into my skin just above my belt buckle and the shaft began to curve upwards slightly.

I took a deep, steadying breath and turned you counterclockwise with your hips in my hands again. You smirked and held your tongue between your lips as you leaned down over the bed and placed both hands on top of the comforter. You arched the small of your back, beckoning me with a dirty glint in your eye.

My pants were growing tight and I undid them hurriedly, then let my hand linger on myself. I considered your perfectly round ass. It glittered in the bright morning light. I thought about all the work you do to keep your muscles in such perfect form, yet I still couldn't bring myself to exercise in any form besides prancing around on a dark stage for a few months at a time. I laughed to myself as I remembered how for a while I'd thought cycling was my thing, but we all know how that ended. Pulling my hand achingly along myself, I couldn't imagine what you saw in me. Enough to allow this to go on for so many years.

I climbed up on my tip toes as you slouched a little lower to make it easier for me to reach. You looked like you were about to creep across the snowy white bed, until I made contact with sunlit skin, and your curves tightened instantly. A low, tiger-like groan came from your end of the bed, as you stretched ever-so-slightly towards me. My steady hands on your mid-section, I guided you towards me.

"Oh baby," my voice came out gruffer than I meant it. I held myself in my dominant hand now; growing thicker by the minute, I painted my hot dick into the creases of your ass. Up and down and around and around and around, until I was nearly mad with desire. I held my breath as you spread your legs even more. That's when I inserted one finger and then two. You quivered below me and the tip of my penis began to glisten with pre-cum. You moaned and shifted back towards me, and I finally let myself press against you. We began to rock gently together, each beat opening you up more. I leaned into it steadily but softly, as you grabbed at the sheets above your head.

When I was finally where I belonged, I ran one hand as far as I could up your spine and held my palm flat on your back, guiding your hip with the other. Everything felt hot around me as I pulsed inside you. It took everything in me not to grunt like an animal. Sweat began to gather on my forehead and neck as I pumped back and forth. I felt like I was meditating, being transported to another place. I stared at the brilliant tapestry above your bed, standing in such stark contrast to the bright white sheets. The colors radiated out towards me and began to blend together as my vision went blurry. A jolt awakened me from my trance every time you wiggled under me. You drew me towards you. Keeping one hand on your hip, I reached the other around to hold you.

At first I just let you slide back and forth in my loose grip while we moved at a steady pace. Then I began to falter, my hand on your hip slipping down, I dug my fingers into your considerable haunches. Every time we came together I felt like I might fall over the edge of a cliff. My entire reason for existence became bringing the skin of my upper thighs to meet your rounded backside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2019. Adam POV.

You cried out, pressing into me once more, as hot cum spilled over your swollen fingers. I remember thinking I wish I could open myself up and pull you in deeper and keep you there. One of my hands flew back and grabbed your thigh. "Stay...please," I begged you not to pull out. I knew you liked the release, but I was feeling selfish, needing more of you. "Mmmm yess....." I emitted sounds from my mouth that I could barely hear over the soft humming taking over my mind, as you stayed inside me, shifting your weight in a semi-circle, prolonging and deepening my orgasm. Finally, when I was ready, you pulled yourself out slowly, carefully, trying not to get your cum all over me and the bed. Suddenly I had the urgent need to be curled in a ball, and I burrowed under the blanket, while you made your way gingerly to the side of the bed.

There you found a discarded old t-shirt to clean yourself off with. "What is this supposed to be anyway?" You said with a quizzical look on your face, holding the black shirt with red and pink circles on it up so I could see. "A boob? An asshole?" You were surprisingly feisty given the activity we'd just finished. "A clitoris....? Or an eyeball maybe?" You giggled to yourself and threw it over by the chair in the corner, missing the spot you'd aimed for gloriously, before you hopped in bed and wrapped your arms and legs around me.

You shifted your weight against me, and as I was enjoying the closeness you grumbled and lifted your leg, which made an awful sticking sound. You made a tsk tsking sound and said, "We can't leave you like this, now can we?"

I smirked at you and looked down between us. That was all the invitation you needed before you dove under the covers. I couldn't see anything you were doing but then I felt your warm tongue on my inner thigh and inhaled sharply. I tried to relax my back into the bed and arranged my arms over my head without moving my lower body too much. Your mouth quickly moved to more sensitive spots, and though I'd thought I couldn't go again so soon, it was no time at all before I was breathing heavily and forcing myself not to move my hips.

Not being able to see you and determine your next move made the sensation so much more intense. My eyes wandered across the ceiling and lingered where the walls met, as the air that escaped your lips grew hotter around me. I licked my lips and willed myself to relax, my fingers now laced together above my head, as you bucked wildly under the covers over me. Your tongue was long and rough on me and you sucked in hard often. It was a long and jolting roller coaster ride to the top, and at some point I realized I was holding my breath. I very consciously let it out slowly as you took me in deep and I could feel the back of your throat, a magical place few had been. It was at this bizarre moment that I pictured I was on an amusement park ride, like It's A Small World After All, but with Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds playing in the background, and instead of children dancing, drummers drumming, windmills, hot air balloons, cuckoo clocks, and the like, there were tangerine trees and marmalade skies, cellophane flowers, newspaper taxis and men with looking glass ties. I was sure I'd lost my god damn mind and then suddenly I was screaming your name over and over and you were sucking me off cleanly before coming to rest your head on my shoulder and coo at my tiny curly white chest hairs.

"You're a dream," you whispered as you twirled your fingers through my hairs.

My head was still swimmy when we fell into a blissful sleep. We napped for hours like that. When our bodies finally drifted apart, you slept splayed out like a starfish and I lay like a Japanese string bean along the far side of the bed.

By the time we woke, it was early evening. At first you were once again filled with boundless energy, suggesting insanely that the two of us go out on the town.

"Could we not?" I protested, rolling over onto my tummy with my hands under my chin.

"Ok fine," you harrumphed, already out of bed. "So what do I get in return for my gracious acquiescence?"

I enjoyed my rare view of your completely naked body as I considered my options. I had to actually give you something you really wanted, otherwise you'd be insufferable all night, and possibly into the morning.

"You mean besides fucking six ways till Sunday?"

"I can't stay that long." You had your hands on your hips, which was adorable.

"It's an expression, B." I winked at you. "Besides, we can fuck six ways till tomorrow morning if you'd prefer."

"Ok, and?" Your look told me you planned to do that already.

"Alright," I relented as I swept the comforter over myself and swung my legs to the side of the bed. "You can take a photo of me to post." 

"Ooh really?" You looked positively giddy as I went to the bathroom to freshen up.

I spritzed myself with Tom Ford and ran some gel through my hair. "What should I..."

But as I joined you back in the bedroom you already had my outfit picked out for me - standard black pants, a zip up, and your cum-stained t-shirt. I rolled my eyes. "Larry's going to be so mad at us."

You giggled as I put on my clothes and looked in the mirror, smoothing the fabric a bit with both hands. "This is too casual. It's obvious someone else picked it out for me," I said as I went to the wardrobe. "I just need a..." I found the perfect coat and shrugged it on, shutting the door.

"That is a very nice jacket," you said and gave me a lingering kiss.

"Where shall we..." I started to say, but it was like you were reading my mind and one step ahead of me all over again.

"Let's take it in the hall. There's better light."

You ushered me out, prepping your phone on the way. I tried to give you my best model pose.

"Good?" I asked.

You held up one finger and were silent, concentrating on the screen and not dropping the phone. You must have taken a hundred photos by now. I tried not to smirk.

"Ok, it's ready for everyone to see." You said as you showed me and then pressed Share.


End file.
